Black Heart In a Gold Frame
by Daerwyn
Summary: With the war 8 years past, Severus Snape runs into an unexpected ghost of his past. But almost too quickly trouble stirs, and Severus can't quite decide if trusting in his position, or trusting her, is the right way to go. Hermione is nothing like the girl he once knew, but she's hiding something that Severus' life depends on knowing. Severus/Hermione. Snanger. Post-War Fic.


**Title:** Black Heart in a Gold Frame

 **Rating:** M

 **Summary:** With the war 8 years past, Severus Snape runs into an unexpected ghost of his past. But almost too quickly trouble stirs, and Severus can't quite decide if trusting in his position, or trusting her, is the right way to go. Hermione is nothing like the girl he once knew, but she's hiding something that Severus' life depends on knowing.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the Wizarding World. The right belongs to JK Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers/Universal.

 **Warnings:** Cursing, sexual situations, prostitution, slavery.

 **Spoilers:** Everything to the Final Battle in Deathly Hallows. EWE?

 **Author's Notes:** (FFN messed up the link in the initial email, so I deleted that version and reposted this. Sorry!) I wrote this in the last few hours, saddened by the news I woke up to today - that our beloved Severus Snape had died. Alan Rickman is one of my favorite actors, someone that I found could put a touch of himself into every role he played, not matter what the world was, and yet make the character so unique and so heartfeltingly earnest, that each character was it's own creation - it's own life. Alan Rickman was so, so young, and the news is something that completely devastated me. I did not expect this day to come for at least another twenty years, when he was so withered, not even my children would recognize who he was when his name flashed on the news screen. He's a man that we grew up with loving, with debating over, and instructing us just where in a textbook we should turn for answers. A brilliant man, a brilliant teacher, and a brilliant actor. He's someone we all saw a bit of ourselves in, or a bit of someone we knew or know. And it's to him that I dedicate this story, because with the creation of one of the best characters I've ever read, I've been inspired by Severus Snape for 99% of my life. I think I can speak for most people when I say that Harry Potter has somehow shaped our lives. Here's to the only man that could play Severus Snape. Here's to the only man I will ever accept as Severus Snape. Thank you. And I hope that you are suffering no longer where you are.

* * *

Hermione often frequented Knockturn Alley these days, her feet as light as the mice that dove into the cracks in the homes, and her robes doing little to disguise her. Her face was familiar here, there was no use disguising it.

No one recognized her anymore. Her face was long forgotten in the sands of time, and age had matured her to be someone entirely different in the past. She did not even know who she was anymore. She just knew what made her achieve the ends she desired. She just knew what would set her free from her mental prison. She had changed to much to be recognized.

And it was why she was here again tonight. She had received the short missive with the correct coding telling her the exact coordinates and room she was to go to tonight. And little more than two words about the man she was to meet.

Severus Snape.

In itself, it painted an entire picture, yet made her heart race in fear. If he recognized her, if he even had a faint hint of who she was, she would be dead. She had to be extremely careful. Her foreman would be sending her to her death - which is something that was entirely to be believed as a possibility.

Having her know of him, and of everything else, made her a risk and a lose end that could easily be tied or nipped off of the fraying fabric. Her expandability meant that everything was lost. And she was doing this all for nothing more than her life. Even now, that amounted to very little.

There was no one in it but the men that she would visit nightly.

The men she would take what she could from, and they take from her in return what they desired.

Her eyes darted up and down the alley as she reached the inn, a small one that had seen her many times in the last few years. And with a tug at the handle, it came free, letting her just enough space to slip inside.

With the Alley being patrolled nearly four times a night, for any stragglers that had forged papers, she could never be too careful. She had learned the hard way when she had been caught out, slipping out after a job. While her papers were the most valid anyone could ever hope for, it was a sick feeling in her stomach that did not make her desire a repeat of the incident.

The Inn was silent, save for the faint snores of its residents. It was not even near midnight yet, and yet most of the Wizarding World was able to sleep with little fear. Perhaps even dream in peace. For them, for anyone that could wander free, the world was safe.

For her, it was a race against time.

The top floor was her destination, in the only suite to exist up there. A room, more like, as she well knew. She knew every creak in the steps, every twist and turns of the stairs that would lead her up a more direct path, instead of the magically altered paths that reminded her of the torn down castle she had grown up in.

Everything of her childhood was gone in the new regime, and the dust had only just settled, coating her with its blackness.

She reached the room in record time, and slipped her hand into the tight robes she wore, withdrawing a thin, and worn string, with the last remaining pieces of her wand. She could feel no wards on the door, as the man was probably not worried anymore of being discovered a traitor.

As the filthy snake that he was.

The whole world was a snake pit, and she was in the middle of it.

A quick alohamora, however, unclicked the lock likely set for privacy. She took a deep breath, readying her features, and reminding herself of the goal. For him. For all of them.

With the click of the door, Severus's eyes darted briefly towards it, but he quickly returned his attention to the _Evening Prophet_. The _Prophet_ was praising the Dark Lord's victory in Melbourne. Another victory that had been spontaneous, with very little warning to the residents. An easy win. His eyes darted up again as the person entered.

She was not a very pretty thing, he decided, as she entered the room, shutting the door behind her. A maid, then. Her skin was dirty, and her curly, nearly mousy, hair tangled and knotted, as though it had not been brushed in ages.

Severus glanced up from his paper in annoyance at her entrance, so that she would know for certain he was watching her - had noticed her. Perhaps she would see his expression and leave. But she was not going to the bed or to the fire to tend to it, she was walking towards him, with a look of steel in her eyes.

He found parts of her face familiar. The brown of her eyes, but the dirt, and the dark of the room, made it difficult to see from the angle the light hit her. There was something about her. Something about her he had distinctly seen before.

Once she reached him, too shocked to knock her away sooner, she reached for his coat, falling into his lap almost as if a cloak that was draping over him. And her fingers began to pick at the buttons, pulling them apart to expose the plain shirt underneath. It was then that he came to his senses on who exactly this wench was.

One of the whores that wandered the streets of Knockturn Alley for a piece of silver - a meager knut for food or to buy something to entice more men.

He rose abruptly, sending her tumbling to the floor.

"Get off of me, wretch-" Severus snapped, one hand grabbing the girl's arm and the other grabbing at her hair, pulling her up to his height. As he wrenched back her hair so that he could see her face, she met his gaze with a defiant stare. His heart stuttered as he recognized her face. It was fully exposed by the fire-light, and the features, though gaunt, were familiar for a reason. It was rare to see faces of his past that were not in the Inner Circle these days. Rare because he knew exactly where they were, and they weren't free.

But she… well, she was someone he had not even heard of in the last eight years.

"What are you doing here?" Snape sneered, his fist tightening. "Granger?"

To her credit, she did not so much as wince. Her jaw clenched. "Is this the way you greet your clients, sir?"

Clients? Severus stared at her for a moment, before the meaning sunk in. "Could it be, that after all this time, the golden one with a heart has been blackened by lost hope, has finally resurrected?" He watched as fury flashed in her eyes just as briefly as it was gone. So she still had some life in her, though filthy and too thin to be given enough meals to get by. Enough life that she could still stand before him.

"And what are you?" Hermione whispered, her tangled hair still tight in her old professor's hand. He let it go as if it burned him, as if the sparks that often trickled through it in her youth had once more come to life. But even he could see that her past was long forgotten from her. That she had given up on the spunk that had once occupied her in her childhood. With the distance, Hermione Granger seemed to grow a tad bolder, a bit more outspoken. "But one with a black heart in a golden frame."

Severus felt his lips twitch in amusement with the clear insult. How he was a traitor to her once cause, the sole responsible catalyst in causing the Order to lose - in causing her to become this. And yet he was the one praised for bringing down the Order, and she was the one that had been dirtied and soiled by the aftermath of the war - just as all of her friends had.

"Indeed," Severus intoned, and he glanced away from her, out of the window and down into the alley of Knockturn. More rats littered through, both full-sized, and some the actual rat. He hated coming here for business. It was one of the filthiest places he had ever ventured to go, and he had ventured to many places. "I'll ask again, what are you doing here?"

"I have debts to pay," Hermione said simply. She did not seemed ashamed. She did not even shy away when he turned towards her sharply. "I'm always here. It's the busiest corner in Wizarding London."

He glanced away from her. "I didn't call for anyone." She didn't say anything in return. "I don't call for anyone."

She stood there when he glanced back, a puzzled look on her face. "If you did not call for me, then why am I here?"

"I did not even know you were alive, Granger, or free, for that matter." Hermione's face smoothed into an expressionless mask. Something that took years of practice, and only in the most perilous of situations could be perfected. Something he had only been able to master when the war had ceased long ago.

Her body tensed suddenly. "I must go."

She reached for the door in an almost blinding speed, but he grabbed her arm. "You can't be leaving at this hour. There will be patrols soon asking for papers."

"It's not my papers that I'm worried about." Hermione Granger tore herself from his arm, reaching once more for the door, but froze at the sound of creaking. Creaking of the floorboards of the stairs. They had creaked in the same way that afternoon when Severus had checked into the room. Someone was coming. Being on the top floor, no one would be coming up to his room, especially at this hour.

She had not made a sound, and so he was not alerted until she had already entered. But this person… they were making no effort to conceal themselves. Meaning they knew he was in there. "Not a word," she spoke so suddenly that he did not process them until she moved.

She turned from the door sharply, moving towards the bed and Severus watched her, as she maneuvered and ducked under the bed, concealing herself between the space between the mattress and the floor. Just as a knock came on the door.

She was frightened, that much was obvious. Severus could tell that just by the way she was acting. Yet she believed in her ability well enough, in her papers. Which meant she had allies. Allies that would be valuable to learn about.

Allies that would be invaluable to gain their trust for - to gain her trust. Nothing would put him in the Dark Lord's favor more. There was little a spy could do after the enemy had fallen.

To protect her now, would only give him more in the end.

If he could learn of the Order that still existed, in the underground, then he would never be doubted for his loyalties. The Dark Lord would never second guess him.

So Severus jerked the door open, his wand between the person's eyes before they could even react. "What?"

Severus stared down Thorfinn Rowle, whose slicked back hair reminded Severus much of Lucius Malfoy before the man had disappeared in the war. All Purebloods seemed to carry the same aristocratic charm.

And the arse that came along with it.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Rowle?"

Rowle's eyes scoured the room before he answered, not seeming too perturbed by the wand still pressed between his eyes. "It's been too long, Severus. Might I come in?"

"Why?"

Rowle gave him a smirk, his eyes holding mischief in them that put Severus on edge. He looked far too smug. "Birds have been whispering, Severus. She's back."

"She?" Severus had a good guess, but he did his best to keep his face in the practice of perfect neutrality - the same look he had seen on the very girl he was talking about.

"Surely you remember Granger?" Rowle prompted. "She's been spotted. This alley of all places." Severus lowered his wand. He itched to know how this would play out. The more information he could squeeze out of the finely groomed flea, the better. "She's got a debt to pay me and Dolohov, you see."

What on earth had this girl been doing in the last eight years?

"Now, Snape, might I come in?"


End file.
